I've been receiving numerous emails requesting the original Farsi or Persian verses of Rumi's very famous and often quoted English "Versions" which are "translated" by the popular Rumi "version makers", particularly the incomparable Coleman Barks who has single-handedly made Maulana Jalaluddin Balkhi Rumi a household name here in our beloved America. In some instances, it's virtually impossible to find Rumi's original Farsi verses, mainly due to non-Persian speaking 'version makers' not providing a reference to the original Rumi verses in their famous new-agey translation works.

Coleman Barks, the foremost Rumi translator and "version maker", not only openly admits, but also calls his Rumi translations as "versions," or "re-renderings" because he doesn't read Farsi:

“Of course, as I work on these poems, I don’t have the Persian to consult. I literally have nothing to be faithful to, except what the scholars give. Ibrahim Gamard, Rawan Farhadi, William Chittick, and Franklin Lewis disapprove of making versions. I understand the objections. What I do is a homemade, amateurish, loose, many-stranded thing, without much attention to historical context, nor much literal faithfulness to the original.”
—Coleman Barks, Rumi: Soul Fury.

In my humble opinion, Coleman Barks deserves our huge amounts of appreciations and accolades for single handedly introducing and popularizing Maulana Jalaluddin Balkhi Rumi to the mainstream American society. It's largely thanks to Coleman Barks and his truly groundbreaking book, The Essential Rumi, that Rumi is a household name and the widely read poet in America these days. And astonishingly, he accomplished it all without even speaking a word of Farsi!

Here are some of the most popular "Rumi Versions" in their original Farsi scripts:

Rumi - Quatrain 1202 from Divan

Version by Coleman Barks

The minute I heard my first love story,I started looking for you,Not knowing how blind that wasLovers don’t finally meet somewhere,They are in each other all along.مولانا - دیوان شمس - رباعی شمارهٔ ۱۲۰۲

I am not from the East or the West,
not out of the ocean or up from the ground,
not natural or ethereal,
not composed of elements at all.

I do not exist,

am not an entity in this world or in the next,

did not descend from Adam and Eve
or any origin story.

My place is placeless,
a trace of the traceless.

Neither body or soul.

I belong to the Beloved,
have seen the two worlds as one

and that one call to and know,

first, last, outer, inner,
only that breath breathing

human being.

غزل منصوب به مولانا

چه تدبیر ای مسلمانان که من خود را نمی دانم

نه ترسا نه یهودم من، نه گبرم نه مسلمانم

نه شرقیم نه غربیم نه بریّم نه بحرّیم

نه از کان طبیعیّم نه از افلاک گردانم

نه از خاکم نه از آبم نه از بادم نه از آتش

نه از عرشم نه از فرشم نه از کونم نه از کانم

نه از هندم نه از چینم نه از بلغار و سقسینم

نه از ملک عراقینم نه از خاک خراسانم

نه از دنیا نه از عقبی نه از جنت نه ازدوزخ

نه از آدم نه از حوّا نه از فردوس و رضوانم

مکانم لا مکان باشد نشانم بی نشان باشد

نه تن باشد نه جان باشد که من از جان جانانم

دوئی از خود بدر کردم، یکی دیدم دو عالم را

یکی جویم یکی دانم یکی بینم یکی خوانم

هوالاول هوالاخر هوالظاهر هوالباطن

بجز یا هو و یامن هو کسی دیگر نمی دانم

ز جام عشق سر مستم دو عالم رفته از دستم

بجز رندی و قلّاشی نباشد هیچ سامانم

اگر در عمر خود روزی دمی بی تو بر آوردم

از آن وقت و از آن ساعت ز عمر خود پشیمانم

اگر دستم رسد روزی دمی با تو درین خلوت

دو عالم زیر پای آرم همی دستی بر افشانم

الا ای شمس تبریزی چنین مستم درین عالم

که جز مستی و قلّاشی نباشد هیچ دستانم

Rumi - Ghazal/Ode 636 from Divan -

Version by Coleman Barks

"Quietness"Inside this new love, die. Your way begins on the other side. Become the sky. Take an axe to the prison wall. Escape. Walk out like someone suddenly born into color. Do it now. You're covered with thick cloud. Slide out the side. Die, and be quiet. Quietness is the surest sign that you have died. Your old life was a frantic running from silence. The speechless full moon comes out now.

The way is full of genuine sacrifice.
The thickets blocking your path are anything
that keeps you from that,
any fear that you may be broken
into bits like a glass bottle.

This road demands courage and stamina,
yet it’s full of footprints!
Who are these companions?
They are rungs in your ladder. Use them!
With company you quicken your ascent.
You may be happy enough going along,
but with others you’ll get farther, and faster.Someone who goes cheerfully by himself
to the customs house to pay his traveler’s taxwill go even morelightheartedly
when friends are with him.Every prophet sought out companions.A wall standing alone is useless,
but put three or four walls together,
and they’ll support a roof and keep grain dry and safe.

When ink joins with a pen,
then the blank paper can say something.
Rushes and reeds must be woven to be useful as a mat.
If they weren’t interlaced; the wind would blow them away.Like that, God paired up creatures,
and gave themfriendship.

This is how the fowler and the bird were arguingabout hermitic living and Islam.It’s a prolonged debate. Husam shorten their controversy. Make the Mathnawi more nimble and less lumbering.Agile sounds are more appealing to the heart’s ear.

Yet, in the midst of suffering,
Love proceeds like a millstone,
hard surfaced and straightforward.

Having died of self-interest,
she risks everything and asks for nothing.
Love gambles away every gift God bestows.

Without cause God gave us Being;
without cause, give it back again.

مولانا - مثنوی - دفتر پنجم

ترس مویی نیست اندر پیش عشق

جمله قربانند اندر کیش عشق

عشق وصف ایزدست اما که خوف

وصف بندهٔ مبتلای فرج و جوف

دیو بر دنیاست عاشق کور و کر

عشق را عشقی دگر برد مگر

از نهان‌خانهٔ یقین چون می‌چشد

اندک‌اندک رخت عشق آنجا کشد

عشق نان مرده را می جان کند

جان که فانی بود جاویدان کند

Rumi - Masnavi - Book 1

Version by Coleman Barks

“Chinese Art and Greek Art”

The Prophet said, “There are some who see Me

by the same Light in which I am seeing them.

Our natures are ONE.

Without reference to any strands

of lineage, without reference to texts or traditions,

we drink the Life-Water together.”

Here's a story

about that hidden mystery:

The Chinese and the Greeks

were arguing as to who were the better artists.

The King said,

“We'll settle this matter with a debate.”

The Chinese began talking,

but the Greeks wouldn't say anything.

They left.

The Chinese suggested then

that they each be given a room to work on

with their artistry, two rooms facing each other

and divided by a curtain.

The Chinese asked the King

for a hundred colors, all the variations,

and each morning they came to where

the dyes were kept and took them all.

The Greeks took no colors.

“They're not part of our work,”

They went to their room

and began cleaning and polishing the walls. All day

every day they made those walls as pure and clear

as an open sky.

There is a way that leads from all-colors

to colorlessness. Know that the magnificent variety

of the clouds and the weather comes from

the total simplicity of the sun and the moon.

The Chinese finished, and they were so happy.

They beat the drums in the joy of completion.

The King entered their room,

astonished by the gorgeous color and detail.

The Greeks then pulled the curtain dividing the rooms.

The Chinese figures and images shimmeringly reflected

on the clear Greek walls. They lived there,

even more beautifully, and always

changing in the light.

The Greek art is the Sufi way.

They don't study books of philosophical thought.

They make their loving clearer and clearer.

No wantings, no anger. In that purity

they receive and reflect the images of every moment,

from here, from the stars, from the void.

They take them in

as though they were seeing

with the Lighted Clarity

that sees them.

مولانا - مثنوی - دفتر اول

قصهٔ مری کردن رومیان و چینیان در علم نقاشی و صورت‌گری

چینیان گفتند ما نقاش‌تر

رومیان گفتند ما را کر و فر

گفت سلطان امتحان خواهم درین

کز شماها کیست در دعوی گزین

اهل چین و روم چون حاضر شدند

رومیان در علم واقف‌تر بدند

چینیان گفتند یک خانه به ما

خاص بسپارید و یک آن شما

بود دو خانه مقابل در بدر

زان یکی چینی ستد رومی دگر

چینیان صد رنگ از شه خواستند

پس خزینه باز کرد آن ارجمند

هر صباحی از خزینه رنگها

چینیان را راتبه بود از عطا

رومیان گفتند نه نقش و نه رنگ

در خور آید کار را جز دفع زنگ

در فرو بستند و صیقل می‌زدند

همچو گردون ساده و صافی شدند

از دو صد رنگی به بی‌رنگی رهیست

رنگ چون ابرست و بی‌رنگی مهیست

هرچه اندر ابر ضو بینی و تاب

آن ز اختر دان و ماه و آفتاب

چینیان چون از عمل فارغ شدند

از پی شادی دهلها می‌زدند

شه در آمد دید آنجا نقشها

می‌ربود آن عقل را و فهم را

بعد از آن آمد به سوی رومیان

پرده را بالا کشیدند از میان

عکس آن تصویر و آن کردارها

زد برین صافی شده دیوارها

هر چه آنجا دید اینجا به نمود

دیده را از دیده‌خانه می‌ربود

رومیان آن صوفیانند ای پدر

بی ز تکرار و کتاب و بی هنر

لیک صیقل کرده‌اند آن سینه‌ها

پاک از آز و حرص و بخل و کینه‌ها

آن صفای آینه وصف دلست

صورت بی منتها را قابلست

صورت بی‌صورت بی حد غیب

ز آینهٔ دل تافت بر موسی ز جیب

گرچه آن صورت نگنجد در فلک

نه بعرش و فرش و دریا و سمک

زانک محدودست و معدودست آن

آینهٔ دل را نباشد حد بدان

عقل اینجا ساکت آمد یا مضل

زانک دل یا اوست یا خود اوست دل

عکس هر نقشی نتابد تا ابد

جز ز دل هم با عدد هم بی عدد

تا ابد هر نقش نو کاید برو

می‌نماید بی حجابی اندرو

اهل صیقل رسته‌اند از بوی و رنگ

هر دمی بینند خوبی بی درنگ

نقش و قشر علم را بگذاشتند

رایت عین الیقین افراشتند

رفت فکر و روشنایی یافتند

نحر و بحر آشنایی یافتند

مرگ کین جمله ازو در وحشتند

می‌کنند این قوم بر وی ریش‌خند

کس نیابد بر دل ایشان ظفر

بر صدف آید ضرر نه بر گهر

گرچه نحو و فقه را بگذاشتند

لیک محو فقر را بر داشتند

تا نقوش هشت جنت تافتست

لوح دلشان را پذیرا یافتست

برترند از عرش و کرسی و خلا

ساکنان مقعد صدق خدا

Rumi - Ghazal/Ode 314 from Divan

Version by Coleman Barks

Those who don't feel this Love
pulling them like a river,
those who don't drink dawn
like a cup of spring water
or take in sunset like supper,
those who don't want to change,
let them sleep.

This Love is beyond the study of theology,
that old trickery and hypocrisy.
I you want to improve your mind that way,
sleep on.

I've given up on my brain.
I've torn the cloth to shreds
and thrown it away.

If you're not completely naked,
wrap your beautiful robe of words
around you,
and sleep.

مولانا - دیوان شمس - غزل شمارهٔ ۳۱۴

تو را که عشق نداری تو را رواست بخسب

برو که عشق و غم او نصیب ماست بخسب

ز آفتاب غم یار ذره ذره شدیم

تو را که این هوس اندر جگر نخاست بخسب

به جست و جوی وصالش چو آب می‌پویم

تو را که غصه آن نیست کو کجاست بخسب

طریق عشق ز هفتاد و دو برون باشد

چو عشق و مذهب تو خدعه و ریاست بخسب

صباح ماست صبوحش عشای ما عشوه ش

تو را که رغبت لوت و غم عشاست بخسب

ز کیمیاطلبی ما چو مس گدازانیم

تو را که بستر و همخوابه کیمیاست بخسب

چو مست هر طرفی می‌فتی و می‌خیزی

که شب گذشت کنون نوبت دعاست بخسب

قضا چو خواب مرا بست ای جوان تو برو

که خواب فوت شدت خواب را قضاست بخسب

به دست عشق درافتاده‌ایم تا چه کند

چو تو به دست خودی رو به دست راست بخسب

منم که خون خورم ای جان تویی که لوت خوری

چو لوت را به یقین خواب اقتضاست بخسب

من از دماغ بریدم امید و از سر نیز

تو را دماغ تر و تازه مرتجاست بخسب

لباس حرف دریدم سخن رها کردم

تو که برهنه نه‌ای مر تو را قباست بخسب

Rumi - Masnavi - Book- 5

Version by Coleman Barks

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of it's furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.

In my hallucinationI saw my beloved's flower gardenIn my vertigo, in my dizzinessIn my drunken hazeWhirling and dancing like a spinning wheelI saw myself as the source of existenceI was there in the beginningAnd I was the spirit of loveNow I am soberThere is only the hangoverAnd the memory of loveAnd only the sorrowI yearn for happinessI ask for helpI want mercyAnd my love says:Look at me and hear meBecause I am hereJust for thatI am your moon and your moonlight tooI am your flower garden and your water tooI have come all this way, eager for youWithout shoes or shawlI want you to laughTo kill all your worriesTo love youTo nourish youOh sweet bitternessI will soothe you and heal youI will bring you rosesI, too, have been covered with thorns.